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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



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THE LOVE POEMS 



SHAKSPERE 



SELECTED AND ARRANGED 



BY ETHEL HARRIS 



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THE CONTENTS 

The Passionate Pilgrim, 

IV 15 

Romeo and Juliet, 

Act I, Scene V 17 

Love's Labour's Lost, 

Act IV, Scene II 18 

As You Like It, . 

Act III, Scene II 19 

Love's Labour's Lost, 

Act IV, Scene III 21 

Romeo and Juliet, 

Act II, Scene II 23 

As You Like It, 

Act II, Scene IV 25 

Two Gentlemen of Verona, 

Act IV, Scene II 27 

The Taming of The Shrew, 

Act V, Scene II 28 

Sonnet, 

CXVI 31 

Love's Labour's Lost, 

Act IV, Scene III 32 

Sonnet, 

CV 35 

The Tempest, 

Act III, Scene 1 36 

The Merchant of Venice, 

Act II, Scene VII 39 

Hamlet, 

Act II, Scene II 41 

As You Like It, 

Act III, Scene II 42 

Titus Andronicus, 

Act II, Scene 1 43 

Sonnet, 

XVIII 45 



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THE CONTENTS— Continued 

Love's Labour's Lost, 

Act IV, Scene III 46 

Hamlet, 

Act IV, Scene V 49 

King Lear, 

Act I, Scene 1 51 

Romeo and Juliet, 

Act II, Scene II 52 

Much Ado About Nothing, 

Act II, Scene III 55 

Venus ,and Adohis 57 

Romeo and Juliet, 

Act II, Scene III 59 

Measure for Measure, 

Act IV, Scene 1 61 

Twelfth Night, 

Act II, Scene III 63 

Romeo and Juliet, 

Act III, Scene V 64 

Troilus and Cressida, 

Act III, Scene 1 67 

Sonnet, 

XCIX 68 

As You Like It, 

Act III, Scene II 69 

The Passionate Pilgrim, 

VI 71 

The Winter's Tale, 

Act IV, Scene IV 72 

Sonnet, 

XXXI 73 

A Midsummer-Night's Dream, 

Act II, Scene 1 75 

The Merchant of Venice, 

Act III, Scene II 76 

Othello, The Moor of Venice, 

Act V, Scene II 77 

Sonnet, 

LXXVI 78 

Cymbeline, 

Act II, Scene III 79 



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THE CONTENTS-Continued 

Sonnet, 

CLIII 81 

Sonnet, 

CXLIX 82 

Sonnet, 

LXXII 83 

Romeo and Juliet, 

Act V, Scene III 85 

Love's Labour's Lost, 

Act I, Scene II.. 86 

Sonnet, 

LXXXVII 87 

Sonnet, 

CXXX 89 

As You Like It, 

Act V, Scene IV 91 

Sonnet, 

XCVII 93 

Sonnet, 

C 94 

All's Well That Ends Well, 

Act I, Scene III 95 

Sonnet, 

XL 97 

Othello, The Moor of Venice, 

Act II, Scene 1 99 

Hamlet, 

Act IV, Scene V 101 

As You Like It, 

Act III, Scene V 102 

Much Ado About Nothing, 

Act III, Scene II 103 

Sonnet, 

CXLV 105 

The Merchant of Venice, 

Act III, Scene II 106 

Sonnet, 

LVII 109 

The Taming of The Shrew, 

Act II, Scene 1 110 



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THE CONTENTS— Continued 









Love's Labour's Lost, 

Act IV, Scene HI 113 

Love's Labour's Lost, 

Act IV, Scene III 114 

Sonnet, 

CXLVIII 115 

Sonnet, 

XCVIII 117 

Sonnet, 

CXLI 119 

As You Like It, 

Act IV, Scene III 121 



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ILLUSTRATIONS 

William Shakspere Frontispiece 

Printania Eduard Bisson 14 

Romeo and Juliet K. Makovsky 16 

Springtime Gamba de Preydour. . 20 

Romeo and Juliet Hans Makart 22 

Indecision Joseph Coomans 26 

30 
34 
40 
44 
48 
50 
56 
58 
62 



Cupid Breaking His Bow A. J. Chantron — 

Forever Herbert Schmalz . . 

Hamlet and Ophelia H. Merle 

A May Morning Hermann Koch. . . 

Ophelia N. Sichel 

Cordelia Gabriel Max 

The Breeze Jean Aubert 

Romeo and Juliet Frank Dicksee. . 

Morning L. Mion 

Coming Love Jean Aubert 66 

A Dangerous Plan Max Volkhart 70 

Midsummer-Night's Dream Paul Thumann 74 

Armistice E. Munier 80 

Romeo and Juliet.. F. Piloty 84 

Apple Blossoms Paul Thumann 88 

The Favored Swain F. Morgan 90 

The Love Letter Marcus Stone 92 

Conference of Cupids Jean Aubert 96 

Othello and Desdemona .A. Begas 98 

Ophelia Ferdinand Piloty 100 

A Difficult Decision R. Beyschlag 1 04 

"Les Adieux". A. Jourdan 108 

Day Dreams Sir Frederick Leighton 1 12 

Easter Morning B. Plockhorst 116 

Study Head E. de Blaas 118 

Wooing F. Andreotti 1 20 








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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



Jfrom Cfje passionate pilgrim 

IV 

Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle; 

Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty; 

Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is, brittle; 

Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty: 
A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her, 
None fairer, nor none falser to deface her. 

Her lips to mine how often hath she joined, 
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing ! 
How many tales to please me hath she coined, 
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing ! 
Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings, 
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were 
jestings. 




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Jfrom Borneo anb STultet 

Act I, Scene V 

Romeo. [To Juliet] If I profane with my unworthi 
hand 

This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this : 
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand 

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss. 

Juliet. Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too 
much, 

Which mannerly devotion shows in this; 
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, 

And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. 

Romeo. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too ? 

Juliet. Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer. 

Romeo. O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; 

They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair. 

Juliet. Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' 
sake. 

Romeo. Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. 
Thus from my lips by thine my sin is purg'd. 

[Kissing her. 

Juliet. Then have my lips the sin that they have took. 

Romeo. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd! 
Give me my sin again. 

Juliet. You kiss by the book. 









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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



Jfrom Kobe's Hafaour's; Host 

SONG 

Act IV, Scene II 

If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love? 

Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd! 
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove; 

Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers 
bow'd. 
Study his bias leaves and makes his book thine eyes, 

Where all those pleasures live that art would com- 
prehend; 
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice ; 

Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend, 
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder; 

Which is to me some praise that I thy parts admire; 
Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful 
thunder, 

Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire. 
Celestial as thou art, O, pardon love this wrong, 
That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue. 






SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



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Act III, Scene II 
Why should this a desert be > 
For it is unpeopled ? No ; 
Tongues I'll hang on every tree, 
That shall civil sayings show : 
Some, how brief the life of man 

Runs his erring pilgrimage, 
That the stretching of a span 

Buckles in his sum of age; 
Some, of violated vows 

Twixt the souls of friend and friend. 
But upon the fairest boughs, 
Or at every sentence end, 
Will I Rosalinda write, 

Teaching all that read to know 
The quintessence of every sprite 
Heaven would in little show. 
Therefore Heaven Nature charg'd 
That one body should be fill'd 
With all graces wide-enlarg'd : 

Nature presently distill'd 
Helen's cheek, but not her heart, 

Cleopatra's majesty, 
Atalanta's better part, 
Sad Lucretia's modesty. 






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ODE 

Act IV, Scene III 

On a day — alack the day! — 
Love, whose month is ever May, 
Spied a blossom passing fair 
Playing in the wanton air; 
Through the velvet leaves the wind, 
All unseen can passage find ; 
That the lover, sick to death, 
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. 
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; 
Air, would I might triumph so! 
But, alack, my hand is sworn 
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn ; 
Vow, alack ! for youth unmeet, 
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet! 
Do not call it sin in me, 
That I am forsworn for thee ; 
Thou for whom Jove would swear 
Juno but an Ethiope were, 
And deny himself for Jove, 
Turning mortal for thy love. 



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jfrom Borneo anb STuIiet 

Act II, Scene II 
Romeo. He jests at scars that never felt a wound. — 

[Juliet appears above at a window. 
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks ? 
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. — 
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, 
Who is already sick and pale with grief, 
That thou her maid art far more fair than she. 
Be not her maid, since she is envious: 
Her vestal livery is but sick and green, 
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. — 
It is my lady, O, it is my love ! 
O, that she knew she were! — 
She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that? 
Her eye discourses; I will answer it. 
I am too bold, t is not to me she speaks. 
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, 
Having some business, do entreat her eyes 
To twinkle in their spheres till they return. 
What if her eyes were there, they in her head ? 
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, 
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven 
Would through the airy region stream so bright 
That birds would sing and think it were not night. 
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! 
O, that I were a glove upon that hand, 
That I might touch that cheek! 

Juliet. Ay me! 







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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



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Romeo. She speaks. — 

O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art 
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, 
As is a winged messenger of heaven 
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes 
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him, 
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds 
And sails upon the bosom of the air. 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



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jfrom 8te |9ou lite 3Jt 

Act II, Scene IV 

Corin. That is the way to make her scorn you still. 
Silvius. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do love her ! 
Corin. I partly guess ; for I have lov'd ere now. 
Silvius. No, Corin, being old, thou canst not guess, 
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover 
As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow; 
But if thy love were ever like to mine- 
As sure I think did never man love so — 
How many actions most ridiculous 
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? 
Corin. Into a thousand that I have forgotten. 
Silvius. O thou didst then ne'er love so heartily! 
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly 
That ever love did make thee run into, 
Thou hast not lov'd: 
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now, 
Wearing thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, 
Thou hast not lov'd: 
Or if thou hast not broken from company 
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me, 
Thou hast not lov'd. 
OPhebe, Phebe, Phebe! 



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Jfrom Ctoo Gentlemen of Uerona 

SONG 

Act IV, Scene II 

Who is Silvia? what is she, 

That all our swains commend her? 
Holy, fair, and wise is she; 

The heaven such grace did lend her, 
That she might admired be. 

Is she kind, as she is fair, — 

For beauty lives with kindness? 

Love doth to her eyes repair, 
To help him of his blindness, 

And, being help'd, inhabits there. 

Then to Silvia let us sing, 

That Silvia is excelling; 
She excels each mortal thing 

Upon the dull earth dwelling : 
To her let us garlands bring. 



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Jfrom Cfje Naming of Cfie g>fjreto 

Act V, Scene II 
Katherina. Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow, 
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, 
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor; 
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, 
Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, 
And in no sense is meet or amiable. 
A woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled, 
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; 
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 
Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it. 
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, 
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, 
And for thy maintenance commits his body 
To painful labour both by sea and land, 
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 
While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; 
And craves no other tribute at thy hands 
But love, fair looks, and true obedience— 
Too little payment for so great a debt. 
Such duty as the subject owes the prince, 
Even such a woman oweth to her husband ; 
And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour, 
And not obedient to his honest will, 
What is she but a foul contending rebel 
And graceless traitor to her loving lord ? 
I am asham'd that women are so simple 
To offer war where they should kneel for peace, 
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, 
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 2 

Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth, 

Unapt to toil and trouble in the world, 

But that our soft conditions and our hearts 

Should well agree with our external parts? 

Come, come, you f roward and unable worms ! 

My mind hath been as big as one of yours, 

My heart as great, my reason haply more, 

To bandy word for word and frown for frown ; 

But now I see our lances are but straws, 

Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare, 

That seeming to be most which we indeed least are. 

Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot, 

And place your hands below your husband's foot 

In token of which duty, if he please, 

My hand is ready; may it do him ease. 

















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Cupid Breaking His Bow 



A. J. Chantron 



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bonnet 

CXVI 

Let me not to the marriage of true minds 

Admit impediments. Love is not love 

Which alters when it alteration finds, 

Or bends with the remover to remove: 

O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken; 

It is the star to every wandering bark, 

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 

Within his bending sickle's compass come; 

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 

But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 

If this be error and upon me prov'd, 

I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd'. 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



jfrom Kobe's labour's Host 

Act IV, Scene III 
5/ron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O, let us embrace! 

As true we are as flesh and blood can be : 
The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face; 

Young blood doth not obey an old decree. 
We cannot cross the cause why we were born; 
Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn. 
King. What, did these rent lines show some love of thine ? 
Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees the heavenly 

Rosaline, 
That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, 

At the first opening of the gorgeous east, 
Bows not his vassal head, and, strucken blind 

Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? 
What peremptory eagle-sighted eye 

Dares look upon the heaven of her brow, 
That is not blinded by her majesty? 
King. What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee now? 
My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon; 

She an attending star, scarce seen a light. 
Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron. 

O, but for my love, day would turn to night! 
Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty 

Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek, 
Where several worthies make one dignity, 

Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek. 
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,— 

Fie, painted rhetoric! O, she needs it not: 
To things of sale a seller's praise belongs, 

She passes praise; then praise too short doth blot. 







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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



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A wither'd hermit, five-score winters worn, 
Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye; 

Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born, 
And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy. 

O, 't is the sun that maketh all things shine. 









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bonnet 

cv 
Let not my love be call'd idolatry, 
Nor my beloved as an idol show, 
Since all alike my songs and praises be 
To one, of one, still such, and ever so. 
Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, 
Still constant in a wondrous excellence; 
Therefore my verse to constancy confin'd, 
One thing expressing, leaves out difference. 
"Fair, kind, and true" is all my argument, 
"Fair, kind, and true" varying to other words; 
And in this change is my invention spent, 
Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords 
"Fair, kind, and true" have often liv'd alone, 
Which three, till now never kept seat in one. 









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36 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



Jf rom W$t tempest 

Act III, Scene I 
Ferdinand. Admir'd Miranda! 

Indeed the top of admiration worth 
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady 
I have eyed with best regard, and many a time 
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage 
Brought my too diligent ear. For several virtues 
Have I liked several women, never any 
With so full soul but some defect in her 
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed 
And put it to the foil ; but you, O you, 
So perfect and so peerless, are created 
Of every creature's best ! 

Miranda. I do not know 

One of my sex, no woman's face remember, 
Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen 
More that I may call men than you, good friend, 
And my dear father. How features are abroad, 
I am skilless of; but, by my modesty, 
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish 
Any companion in the world but you ; 
Nor can imagination form a shape, 
Beside yourself, to like of. — But I prattle 
Something too wildly, and my father's precepts 
I therein do forget. 

Ferdinand. I am, in my condition, 

A prince, Miranda"; I do think, a king; — 
I would, not so ! — and would no more endure 
This wooden slavery than to suffer 
The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak : 






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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



37 



The very instant that I saw you, did 

My heart fly to your service r there resides, 

To make me slave to it ; and for your sake 

Am I this patient log-man. 

Miranda. Do you love me ? 

Ferdinand. O heaven ! O earth ! bear witness to this 

sound, 
And crown what I profess with kind event, 
If I speak true; if hollowly, invert 
What best is boded me to mischief ! I, 
Beyond all limit of what else i' the world, 
Do love, prize, honour you. 

Miranda. I am a fool 

To weep at what I am glad of. 

Prospero. Fair encounter 

Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace 
On that which breeds between 'em ! 
Ferdinand. Wherefore weep you? 

Miranda. At mine un worthiness, that dare not offer 
What I desire to give, and much less take 
What I shall die to want. But this is trifling ; 
And all the more it seeks to hide itself, 
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning ! 
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! 
I am your wife if you will marry me ; 
If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow 
You may deny me, but I'll be your servant, 
Whether you will or no. 




Ferdinand. 

And I thus humble ever. 

Miranda. 



My mistress, dearest, 
My husband then? 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



Ferdinand. Ay, with a heart as willing 

As bondage e'er of freedom ; here's my hand. 
Miranda. And mine, with my heart in't ; and now 

farewell, 
Till half an hour hence. 









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Jfrom QTfje jWercftant oC "Venice 

Act II, Scene VII 

Morocco. " W ho chooseth me shalt gain what many 
men desire." 
Why, that's the lady: all the world desires her; 
From the four corners of the earth they come, 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint. 
The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds 
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now 
For princes to come view fair Portia. 
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 
Spets in the face of heaven, is no bar 
To stop the foreign spirits, but they come, 
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 
One of these three contains her heavenly picture. 
Is't like that lead contains her? 'T were damnation 
To think so base a thought; it were too gross 
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
Or shall I think in silver she's immur'd, 
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold ? 
O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem 
Was set in worse than gold. They have in England 
A coin that bears the figure of an angel 
Stamped in gold, but that's insculp'd upon; 
But here an angel in a golden bed 
Lies all within. — Deliver me the key; 



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jfrom Camlet 

Act II, Scene II 

Doubt thou the stars are fire; 

Doubt that the sun doth move ; 
Doubt truth to be a liar ; 
But never doubt I love 
O, dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers, 
not art to reckon my groans; but that I love thee best, 
O most best, believe it. Adieu. 

Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this 
machine is to him, HAMLET. 




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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



Jfrom ®& Itou %ikt St 

Act III, Scene II 

Orlando. Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love ; 

And thou, thrice-crowned queen of night, survey 
With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere above, 

Thy huntress' name that my full life doth sway. 
O Rosalind! these trees shall be my books, 

And in their barks my thoughts I'll character, 
That every eye which in this forest looks 

Shall see thy virtue witness'd everywhere. 
Run, run, Orlando; carve on every tree 
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive she. 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 43 






■A 



Jfrom Cttus; gnbromcus; 

Act II, Scene I 
Demetrius. Why mak'st thou it so strange? 

She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; 
She is a woman, therefore may be won; 
She is Lavinia, therefore must be lov'd. 
What, man! more water glideth by the mill 
Than wots the miller of, and easy it is 
Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know: 
Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother, 
Better than he have worn Vulcan's badge. 



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_ . _ 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



45 



bonnet 

XVIII 

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 
Thou art more lovely and more temperate : 
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, 
And summer's lease hath all too short a date; 
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, 
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; 
And every fair from fair sometime declines, 
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; 
But thy eternal summer shall not fade 
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest ; 
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, 
When in eternal lines to time thou growest. 
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, 
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. 
XIX 

Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws, 
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood ; 
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws, 
And burn the long-liv'd phoenix in her blood; 
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets, 
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time, 
To the wide world and all her fading sweets; 
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime; 
O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow, 
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen; 
Him in thy course untainted do allow 
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men. 

Yet, do thy worst, old Time; despite thy wrong, 
My love shall in my verse ever live young. 






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46 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



eyes, 



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jfrom Hobe'si labour's Host 

Act IV, Scene III 

Biron. But love, first learned in a lady 

Lives not alone immured in the brain, 

But, with the motion of all elements, 

Courses as swift as thought in every power. 

And gives to every power a double power, 

Above their functions and their offices. 

It adds a precious seeing to the eye; 

A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind; 

A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 

When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd ; 

Love's feeling is more soft and sensible 

Than are the tender horns of cockled snails; 

Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste; 

For valour, is not Love a Hercules, 

Still climbing trees in the Hespendes? 

Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical 

As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair ; 

And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods 

Make heaven drowsy with the harmony. 

Never durst poet touch a pen to write 

Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs; 

O, then his lines would ravish savage ears 

And plant in tyrants mild humility! 

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: 

They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; 

They are the books, the arts, the academes, 

That show, contain, and nourish all the world 

Else none at all in aught proves excellent. 

Then fools you were these women to forswear, 



' 






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---;- 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



47 



- 









>" 



Or keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools 
For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love, 
Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men, 
Or for men's sake, the authors of these women, 
Or women's sake, by whom we men are men, 
Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves, 
Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths. 
It is religion to be thus forsworn, 
For charity itself fulfils the law, — 
And who can sever love from charity? 



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Ophelia N. Sichel 

"And will he not come again?" 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



49 



Jfrom Camlet 

Act IV, Scene V 

Ophelia. And will he not come again? 
[iSVrrgs] And will he not come again? 

No, no, he is dead; 

Go to thy death-bed, 
He never will come again. 

His beard was white as snow, 
All flaxen was his poll; 
He is gone, he is gone, 
And we cast away moan: 
God ha' mercy on his soul ! 



M 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 












jfrom &tng Hear 

Act T, Scene I 

France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poor, 

Most choice forsaken, and most lov'd despis'd, 

Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon; 

Be it lawful I take up what's cast away. 

Gods, gods! 't is strange that from their cold'st neglect 

My love should kindle to inflam'd respect. — 

Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my chance, 

Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France. 

Not all the dukes of waterish Burgundy 

Can buy this unpriz'd precious maid of me. — 

Bid them farewell, Cordelia, though unkind : 

Thou losest here, a better where to find. 












: 






5 2 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 






jfrom &omeo anb STultet 

Act II, Scene II 
Juliet. By whose direction found'st thou out this place ? 
Romeo. By love, that first did prompt me to inquire; 
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. 
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far 
As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, 
I would adventure for such merchandise. 
Juliet. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, 
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek 
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. 
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny 
What I have spoke; but farewell compliment! 
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say ay, 
And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, 
Thou mayst prove false ; at lovers' perjuries, 
They say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, 
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: 
Or if thou thinkst I am too quickly won, 
I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay. 
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world. 
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, 
And therefore thou mayst think my haviour light; 
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true 
Than those that have more cunning to be strange. 
I should have been more strange, I must confess, 
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, 
My true love's passion; therefore pardon me, 
And not impute this yielding to light love, 
Which the dark night hath so discovered. 
Romeo. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, 



'—-: .:-'_.___ 



1 — 

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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



53 



That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops — 

Juliet. O, swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon, 

That monthly changes in her circled orb, 

Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. 

Romeo. What shall I swear by? 

Juliet. Do not swear at all: 

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, 

Which is the god of my idolatry, 

And I'll believe thee. 

Romeo. If my heart's dear love — 

Juliet. Well, do not swear. Although I joy in thee, 

I have no joy of this contract to-night ; 

It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden, 

Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be 

Ere one can say it lightens. Sweet, good night ! 

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, 

May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. 

Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest 

Come to thy heart as that within my breast! 

Romeo. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? 

Juliet. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night ? 

Romeo. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for 

mine. 
Juliet. I gave thee mine before thou didst request it; 
And yet I would it were to give again. 
Romeo. Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, 

love ? 
Juliet. But to be frank, and give it thee again. 
And yet I wish but for the thing I have • 
My bounty is as boundless as the sea, 



- 



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SI/AKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



My love as deep ; the more I give to thee, 
The more I have, for both are infinite. 

[Nurse calls within. 
I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! — 
Anon, good nurse! — Sweet Montague, be true. 
Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit. 

Romeo. O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, 
Being in night, all this is but a dream, 
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. 
Re-enter Juliet, above. 
Juliet. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night 
If that thy bent of love be honourable, [indeed. 

Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, 
By one that I'll procure to come to thee, 
Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; 
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay, 
And follow thee my lord throughout the world. 



Nu 



Within] Made 



Juliet. I come, anon. — But if thou mean'st not well, 

I do beseech thee— 

Nurse. [ Within] Madam ! 

Juliet. By and by, I come. — 

To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief; 

To-morrow will I send. 

Romeo. So thrive my soul — 

Juliet. A thousand times good night! [Exit. 

Romeo. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light. — ■ 

Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books, 

But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. 






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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



55 



Jfrom Jftucf) &bo gflbout i^otfjing 

SONG 

Act II, Scene III 

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, 

Men were deceivers ever, 
One foot in sea and one on shore, 

To one thing constant never; 
Then sigh not so, but let them go, 

And be you blithe and bonny, 
Converting all your sounds of woe 

Into Hey nonny, nonny. 






i<il! 



, 



Sing no more ditties, sing no moe, 
Of dumps so dull and heavy; 

The fraud of men was ever so, 
Since summer first was leavy: 

Then sigh not so, etc. 



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: 







The Breeze Jean Aubert 

"Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie" 

^~~ ~ — 









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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



5 7 



Jfrom Venus! anb gfoonte 

Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear, 
Or, like a fairy, trip upon the green, 
Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair, 
Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen; 
Love is a spirit all compact of fire, 
Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire. 

Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie; 

These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me; 

Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky, 

From morn till night, even where I list to sport me : 
Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be 
That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee? 









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ss> i Ms h^SN/W-iz 7 *^'. . : 



ihd± 




Romeo and Juliet Frank Dicksee 

"Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow" 









SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



59 









- 



Jfrom Borneo anb STultet 

Act II, Scene III 

Juliet. Hist! Romeo, hist! — O, for a falconer's voice, 

To lure this tassel-gentle back again! 

Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; 

Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, 

And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine, 

With repetition of my Romeo's name. 

Romeo. It is my soul that calls upon my name; 

How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, 

Like softest music to attending ears! 

Juliet. Romeo! 

Romeo. My dear? 

Juliet. At what o'clock to-morrow 

Shall I send to thee ? 

Romeo. At the hour of nine. 

Juliet. I will not fail; 't is twenty years till then. 

I have forgot why I did call thee back. 

Romeo. Let me stand here till thou remember it. 

Juliet. I shall forget, to have thee still stand there, 

Remembering how I love thy company. 

Romeo. And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget, 

Forgetting any other home but this. 

Juliet. T is almost morning; I would have thee gone. 

And yet no farther than a wanton's bird, 

Who lets it hop a little from her hand, 

Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, 

And with a silk thread plucks it back again, 

So loving-jealous of his liberty. 

Romeo. I would I were thy bird. 







_ 



W^F" 



—-"- 

















60 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



Juliet. Sweet, so would I: 

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. 

Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, 

That I shall say good night till it be morrow. 

[Exit, above. 
Romeo. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy 

breast! 
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest! 
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, 
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell. [Exit. 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



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Jf rom Jfleasure for Jffleasure 

SONG 

Act IV, Scexe I 

Take, O, take those lips away, 

That so sweetly were forsworn, 
And those eyes, the break of day, 
Lights that do mislead the morn ; 
But my kisses bring again, bring again, — 
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, seal'd in vain. 



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MORNING L. MlON 

"Trip no further, pretty sweeting" 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



63 









■ 



Jf rom Otoelftf) MmU 

SONG 
Act II, Scene III 

O mistress mine, where are you roaming? 
O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, 

That can sing both high and low: 
Trip no further, pretty sweeting; 
Journeys end in lovers meeting, 

Every wise man's son doth know. 



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What is love ? 't is not hereafter ; 
Present mirth hath present laughter; 

What's to come is still unsure : 
In delay there lies no plenty ; 
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty; 

Youth's a stuff will not endure. 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



Jfrom Borneo anb Juliet 

Act III, Scene V 

Juliet. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: 
It was the nightingale, and not the lark, 
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; 
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree. 
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. 
Romeo. It was the lark, the herald of the morn, 
No nightingale; look, love, what envious streaks 
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. 
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. 
I must be gone and live, or stay and die. 
Juliet. Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I; 
It is some meteor that the sun exhales, 
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, 
And light thee on thy way to Mantua: 
Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not to be gone. 
Romeo. Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; 
I am content, so thou wilt have it so. 
I'll say yon gray is not the morning's eye, 
'T is but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow ; 
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat 
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads. 
I have more care to stay than will to go; 
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. 
How is 't, my soul ? let's talk, it is not day. 
Juliet. It is, it is ; hie hence, be gone, away ! 
It is the lark that sings so out of tune, 
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. 
Some say the lark makes sweet division ; 






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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



6 S 






This doth not so, for she divideth us. 
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes; 
O, now I would they had chang'd voices too ! 
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, 
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day. 
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows. 
Romeo. More light and light?— more dark and 
dark our woes ! 










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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 67 



Jfrom Qfroilu* anb CresfStba 

SONG 
Act III, Scene I 
Love, love, nothing but love, still more ! 
For, O, love's bow 
Shoots buck and doe ; 
The shaft confounds, 
Not that it wounds, 
But tickles still the sore. 

These lovers cry Oh! oh! they die! 

Yet that which seems the wound to kil 
Doth turn oh! oh! to ha! ha! he! 

So dying love lives still : 
Oh! oh! a while, but ha! ha! ha! 
Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha! 






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68 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



bonnet 

XCIX 
The forward violet thus did I chide : 
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, 
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride 
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells 
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed. 
The lily I condemned for thy hand, 
And buds of marjoram had stolen thy hair; 
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, 
One blushing shame, another white despair; 
A third, nor red nor white, had stolen of both, 
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; 
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth 
A vengeful canker eat him up to death. 

More flowers I noted, yet I none could see 
But sweet or colour it had stolen from thee. 






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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



69 



Jfrom gte §ou Hike 3t 

Act III, Scene II 

From the east to western Ind, 

No jewel is like Rosalind. 

Her worth, being mounted on the wind, 

Through all the world bears Rosalind. 

All the pictures fairest lin'd, 

Are but black to Rosalind. 

Let no face be kept in mind 

But the fair of Rosalind. 




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Crabbed age and youth cannot live together : 
Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care ; 
Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; 
Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare. 
Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short ; 

Youth is nimble, age is lame; 
Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold ; 

Youth is wild, and age is tame. 
Age, I do abhor thee; youth I do adore thee; 

O, my love, my love is young! 
Age, I do defy thee: O, sweet shepherd, hie thee, 

For methinks thou stay'st too long. 









WWWPS. 









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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



Jf rom tETfje W&intzv'g &ale 

Act IV, Scene IV 
Florizel. What you do 

Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, 
I'd have you do it ever; when you sing, 
I'd have you buy and sell so, so give alms, 
Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs, 
To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you 
A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do 
Nothing but that ; move still, still so, 
And own no other function. Each your doing, 
So singular in each particular, 
Crowns what you are doing in the present deed, 
That all your acts are queens. 









SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 






: mm 



bonnet 

XXXI 

Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, 
Which I by lacking have supposed dead, 
And there reigns love and all love's loving parts, 
And all those friends which I thought buried. 
How many a holy and obsequious tear 
Hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye 
As interest of the dead, which now appear 
But things remov'd that hidden in thee lie ! 
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live, 
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone, 
Who all their parts of me to thee did give ; 
That due of many now is thine alone : 
Their images I lov'd I view in thee, 
And thou, all they, hast all the all of me. 






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Midsummer-Night's Dream 

"The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid' 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



75 



Jfrom & JffltbfimmmerJ^gfjt's; Bream 

Act II, Scene I 

Oberon. That very time I saw, but thou couldst not, 

Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 

Cupid all arm'd. A certain aim he took 

At a fair vestal throned by the west, 

And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow, 

As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts; 

But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 

Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watery moon, 

And the imperial votaress passed on, 

In maiden meditation, fancy-free. 

Yet marled I where the bolt of Cupid fell ; 

It fell upon a little western flower, 

Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, 

And maidens call it love-in-idleness. 

Fetch me that flower; the herb I show'd thee once. 

Hie juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid 

Will make or man or woman madly dote 

Upon the next live creature that it see 

Fetch me this herb, and be thou here again 

Ere the leviathan can swim a league. 



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76 SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 






:: 


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jgsgi 




Jfrom Cfje jWercfjant of 'Vtnitt 

THE SCROLL 

Act III, Scene II 


l*ili 




You that choose not by the view, 


#1 




Chance as fair, and choose as true 




Since this fortune falls to you, 






Be content and seek no new. 




t 


If you be well pleas'd with this, 






And hold your fortune for your bliss, 




F'i'fV' 


Turn you where your lady is, 
And claim her with a loving kiss. 




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S/fAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



77 



Jfrom 0ti}t\\o, Wfyt Jlloor of Venice 

Act V, Scene II 
Othello. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, — 
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars! — 
It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood, 
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, 
And smooth as monumental alabaster. 
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. 
Put out the light, and then— put out the light ! 
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, 
I can again thy former light restore, 
Should I repent me ; but once put out thy light, 
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, 
I know not where is that Promethean heat 
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the 

rose, 
I cannot give it vital growth again, 
It must needs wither; I'll smell it on the tree. 

[Kissing her. 
Ah, balmy breath, that dost almost persuade 
Justice to break her sword! One more, one more. 
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, 
And love thee after. One more, and this the last; 
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, 
But they are cruel tears : this sorrow's heavenly; 
It strikes where it doth love. She wakes. 









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~ 



78 



SHAKSPEKE'S LOVE POEMS 



bonnet 

LXXVI 

Why is my verse so barren of new pride, 
So far from variation or quick change? 
Why with the time do I not glance aside 
To new-found methods and to compounds strange? 
Why write I still all one, ever the same, 
And keep invention in a noted weed, 
That every word doth almost tell my name, 
Showing their birth and where they did proceed? 
O, know, sweet love, I always write of you, 
And you and love are still my argument; 
So all my best is dressing old words new, 
Spending again what is already spent: 
For as the sun is daily new and old, 
So is my love still telling what is told. 




■■ ■■j|.,-; ! .'vy;"":~-' 











— s '-■' — .-.■.■ ..' ■ ~~ 7 : ■'-.■•■■■■- >■ . 






SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 79 






































Jfrom Cpmbeltne 

SONG 




^J*P 


Act II, Scene III 




■v ; 


Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, 




■ /-,:-' 


And Phoebus gins arise, 






His steeds to water at those springs 




' ' ■' ' 


On chalic'd flowers that lies; 






And winking Mary-buds begin 




; 


To ope their golden eyes; 






With everything that pretty is, 






My lady sweet, arise; 


•dlr 




Arise, arise ! 
















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E. Muni 
'Cupid laid by his brand, and jell asleep" 



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SIIAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



P 



■C'''/' 



bonnet 

CLIII 

Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep: 
A maid of Dian's this advantage found, 
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep 
In a cold valley -fountain of that ground; 
Which borrow 'd from this holy fire of Love 
A dateless lively heat, still to endure, 
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove 
Against strange maladies a sovereign cure. 
But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fir'd, 
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast ; 
I, sick withal, the help of bath desir'd, 
And hither hied, a sad distemper'd guest, 

And found no cure : the bath for my help lies 
Where Cupid got new fire — my mistress' eyes. 

CLIV 

The little Love-god lying once asleep 

Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, 

Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep 

Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand 

The fairest votary took up that fire 

Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd, 

And so the general of hot desire 

Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd. 

This brand she quenched in a cool well by, 

Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, 

Growing a bath and healthful remedy 

For men diseas'd; but I, my mistress' thrall, 

Came there for cure, and this by that I prove, 
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love. 






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82 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



bonnet 

CXLIX 

Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, 
When I against myself with thee partake? 
Do I not think on thee, when I forgot 
Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake? 
Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? 
On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon? 
Nay, if thou lowerst on me, do I not spend 
Revenge upon myself with present moan? 
What merit do I in myself respect, 
That is so proud thy service to despise, 
When all my best doth worship thy defect, 
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? 

But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind ; 

Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind. 










\: '.■■ - 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



83 









bonnet 

LXXII 

O, lest the world should task you to recite 
What merit liv'd in me, that you should love 
After my death, dear love, forget me quite, 
For you in me can nothing worthy prove; 
Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, 
To do more for me than mine own desert, 
And hang more praise upon deceased I 
Than niggard truth would willingly impart: 
O, lest your true love may seem false in this, 
That you for love speak well of me untrue, 
My name be buried where my body is, 
And live no more to shame nor me nor you ! 

For I am sham'd by that which I bring forth, 
And so should you, to love things nothing worth. 




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'Thus with a kiss I die' 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



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Jfrom Borneo anb HTultet 

Act V, Scene III 
Romeo. O my love! my wife! 

Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, 
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: 
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet 
Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, 
And death's pale flag is not advanced there. — 
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet ? 
O, what more favour can I do to thee 
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain 
To sunder his that was thine enemy? 
Forgive me, cousin! — Ah, dear Juliet, 
Why are thou yet so fair ? shall I believe 
That unsubstantial Death is amorous, 
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 
Thee here in dark to be his paramour? 
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee ; 
And never from this palace of dim night 
Depart again: here, here will I remain 
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here 
Will I set up my everlasting rest, 
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars 
From this world-wearied flesh.— Eyes, look your last! 
Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you 
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
A dateless bargain to engrossing death! 
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! 
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! 
Here's to my love! [Drinks.] O true apothecary! 
Thy drugs are quick. — Thus with a kiss I die. [Dies. 




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86 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 




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Jfrom Kobe's Mjour'a Host 

Act I, Scene II 
Moth. If she be made of white and red, 
Her faults will ne'er be known, 
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred 

And fears by pale white shown; 
Then if she fear, or be to blame, 

By this you shall not know, 
For still her cheeks possess the same, 
Which native she doth owe. 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 






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bonnet 

LXXXVII 
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, 
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: 
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ; 
My bonds in thee are all determinate. 
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? 
And for that riches where is my deserving? 
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, 
And so my patient back again is swerving. 
Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing 
Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking; 
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, 
Comes home again, on better judgment making. 
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, 
In sleep a king, but waking no such matter. 







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"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun" 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



bonnet 

cxxx 

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; 

Coral is far more red than her lips' red ; 

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun ; 

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. 

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, 

But no such roses see I in her cheeks ; 

And in some perfumes is there more delight 

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. 

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know 

That music hath a far more pleasing sound; 

I grant I never saw a goddess go; 

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground; 
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare 
As any she belied with false compare. 













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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



Jfrom && §ou ILikt M 

SONG 
Act V, Scene IV 
It was a lover and his lass, 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
That o'er the green corn-field did pass 

In spring time, the only pretty ring time, 
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding : 
Sweet lovers love the spring. 

Between the acres of the rye, 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
These pretty country folks would lie, 

In spring time, etc. 

This carol they began that hour, 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 

How that a life was but a flower 
In spring time. etc. 

And therefore take the present time, 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 

For love is crowned with the prime 
In spring time, etc. 






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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 93 









H>onnet 

XCVII 
How like a winter hath my absence been 
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! 
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! 
What old December's bareness every where! 

And, thou away, the very birds are mute ; 

Or, if they sing, 't is with so dull a cheer 

That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near. 



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94 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 





bonnet 

c 
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long 
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might ? 
Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song, 
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light ? 
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem 
In gentle numbers time so idly spent; 
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem 
And gives thy pen both skill and argument. 
Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey, 
If Time have any wrinkle graven there ; 
If any, be a satire to decay, 
And make Time's spoils despised every where. 

Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life ; 

So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife. 






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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



95 









Jfrom m* WLz\L tEJjat enbsi WitU 

Act I, Scene III 

Helena. Then, I confess, 

Here on my knee, before high heaven and you, 

That before you, and next unto high heaven, 

I love your son. 

My friends were poor, but honest ; so's my love : 

Be not offended; for it hurts not him 

That he is lov'd of me. I follow him not 

By any token of presumptuous suit; 

Nor would I have him till I do deserve him ; 

Yet never know how that desert should be. 

I know I love in vain, strive against hope ; 

Yet in this captious and intenible sieve 

I still pour in the waters of my love 

And lack not to lose still : thus, Indian-like, 

Religious in mine error, I adore 

The sun, that looks upon his worshipper, 

But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, 

Let not your hate encounter with my love 

For loving where you do: but if yourself, 

Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth, 

Did ever in so true a flame of liking 

Wish chastely and love dearly, that your Dian 

Was both herself and love, O, then give pity 

To her whose state is such that cannot choose 

But lend and give where she is sure to lose; 

That seeks not to find that her search implies, 

But riddle-like lives sweetly where she dies! 






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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 97 




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XL 




Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all ; 






What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? 






No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call ; 






All mine was thine before thou hadst this more. 






Then if for my love thou my love receivest, 






I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest ; 






But yet be blam'd, if thou thyself deceivest 






By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. 
I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, 






Although thou steal thee all my poverty ; 
And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief 
To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury. 






Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, 






Kill me with spites ; yet we must not be foes. 


































Othello and Desdemon/ 



'My dear Othello' 



- --i- --■• ' - 



■ - ■— 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



99 



Jfrom 0t\)tllo, tEfje Jfloor of "^Tentce 

Act II, Scene I 

Othello. O my fair warrior! 

Desdemona. My dear Othello ! 

Othello. It gives me wonder great as my content 

To see you here before me. O my soul's joy! 

If after every tempest come such calms, 

May the winds blow till they have waken'd death ! 

And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas 

Olympus-high, and duck again as low 

As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, 

*T were now to be most happy ; for, I fear, 

My soul hath her content so absolute 

That not another comfort like to this 

Succeeds in unknown fate. 

Desdemona. The heavens forbid 

But that our loves and comforts should increase, 

Even as our days do grow! 

Othello. Amen to that, sweet powers! 

I cannot speak enough of this content; 

It stops me here ; it is too much of joy : 

And this, and this, the greatest discords be 

That e'er our hearts shall make! 



















































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Ferdinand Pilotv 



'He is dead and "gone, lady' 



-' . 1 ' : '' 1 " ■■• : 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 






Jfrom Camlet 

Act IV, Scene V 

Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark? 
How now, Ophelia! 
[<5m£s] How should I your true love know 



Ophelia. 

Queen. 

Ophelia. 



Queen. 
Ophel'u 



Queen. 
Ophelic 






From another one? 
By his cockle hat and staff, 
And his sandal shoon. 
Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song? 
Say you? nay, pray you, mark. 
[iSm^s] He is dead and gone, lady, 
He is dead and gone; 
At his head a grass-green turf, 
At his heels a stone. 
Nay, but, Ophelia, — 
Pray you, mark. 



[5mgs] White his shroud as the mountain snow, — 
Enter King. 
Queen. Alas, look here, my lord. 
Ophelia. [5mgs] Larded with sweet flowers; 

Which bewept to the grave did not go 
With true-love showers. 








SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



Jfrom 3* |9ou Hike 3Jt 

Act III, Scene V 

Phebe. Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might 
"Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight ?" 



Silvius. 

Phebe. 

Silvius. 

Phebe. 

Silvius. 



Sweet Phebe, — 

Ha, what say'st thou, Silvius ? 

Sweet Phebe, pity me. 
Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle Silvius. 

Wherever sorrow is, relief would be : 
If you do sorrow at my grief in love, 
By giving love your sorrow and my grief 
Were both extermin'd. 

Phebe. Thou hast my love; is not that neighbourly? 
Silvius. I would have you. 

Phebe. Why, that were covetousness. 

Silvius, the time was that I hated thee, 
And yet it is not that I bear thee love; 
But since that thou canst talk of love so well, 
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, 
I will endure, and I'll employ thee too: 
But do not look for further recompence 
Than thine own gladness that thou art employ 'd. 



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Jfrom Jflucf) gbo gbout J^otfjtng 

Act III, Scene II 
Beatrice. What fire is in mine ears ? 

Can this be true? 

Stand I condemn'd for pride and scorn so much ? 
Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu! 

No glory lives behind the back of such. 
And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee, 

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand : 
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 

To bind our loves up in a holy band; 
For others say thou dost deserve, and I 
Believe it better than reportingly. 







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A Difficult Decision R Beyschlag 

''Straight in her heart did mercy come" 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 






. 



bonnet 

CXLV 
Those lips that Love's own hand did make 
Breath'd forth the sound that said "I hate" 
To me that languish'd for her sake; 
But when she saw my woeful state, 
Straight in her heart did mercy come, 
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet 
Was us'd in giving gentle doom, 
And taught it thus anew to greet. 
"I hate" she alter'd with an end, 
That follow 'd it as gentle day 
Doth follow night, who like a fiend 
From heaven to hell is flown away ; 
"I hate" from hate away she threw, 
And sav'd my life, saying "not you." 









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1 06 SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 






Jfrom &fje JWercfjant of Uemce 

Act III, Scene II 




Portia. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, 


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Such as I am : though for myself alone 


v: - ~~\$ 




I would not be ambitious in my wish, 






To wish myself much better, yet for you 
I would be trebled twenty times myself, 
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich, 


fell 




That only to stand high in your account, 






I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 






Exceed account: but the full sum of me 
Is sum of nothing ; which, to term in gross, 
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd: 
Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
But she may learn; happier than this, 
She is not bred so dull but she can learn; 






Happiest of all in that her gentle spirit 
Commits itself to yours to be directed, 


-' 




As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
Is now converted : but now I was the lord 




Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 






Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, 






This house, these servants, and this same myself 
Are yours, my lord. I give them with this ring; 






Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 

Let it presage the ruin of your love, 

And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 

Bassanio. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 






Only my blood speaks to you in my veins; 






And there is such confusion in my powers 











— >'V ; , '--•'. :'-. 












SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 10 

As, after some oration fairly spoke 
By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
Among the buzzing pleased multitude, 
Where every something, being blent together, 
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
Express'd and not express'd, But when this ring 
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence ; 
O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead ! 






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"LesAdieux" A. Jourdan 

" Being your slave, what should I do but tend 

Upon the hours and times of your desires?" 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



bonnet 

LVII 

Being your slave, what should I do but tend 
Upon the hours and times of your desire? 
I have no precious time at all to spend, 
Nor services to do, till you require. 
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour 
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, 
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour 
When you have bid your servant once adieu; 
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought 
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, 
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought 
Save, where you are how happy you make those 
So true a fool is love that in your will, 
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill. 

LVII I 

That god forbid that made me first your slave, 

I should in thought control your times of pleasure, 

Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, 

Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! 

O, let me suffer, being at your beck, 

The imprison'd absence of your liberty; 

And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each check, 

Without accusing you of injury. 

Be where you list, your charter is so strong 

That you yourself may privilege your time 

To what you will ; to you it doth belong 

Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. 

I am to wait, though waiting so be hell ; 

Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well. 



"',-,-■;. 












■■, •'. 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 








jFrom Clje Naming of QTIje g>f)reto 

Act II, Scene I 
Petruchio. I pray you do. — [Exeunt all but Petruchio, 

I will attend her here, 
And woo her with some spirit when she comes. 
Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain 
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale. 
Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear 
As morning roses newly wash'd with dew. 
Say she be mute and will not speak a word; 
Then I'll commend her volubility, 
And say she uttereth piercing eloquence. 
If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks, 
As though she bid me stay by her a week. 
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day 
When I shall ask the banns and when be married. 
But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak. — 

Enter Katherina. 
Good morrow, Kate ; for that's your name, I hear. 
Katherina. Well have you heard, but something hard 

of hearing; 
They call me Katherina that do talk of me. 
Petruchio. You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain 

Kate, 
And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst; 
But, Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, 
Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate, 
For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate, 
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation : 
Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town, 
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, 



T~^~ 






. 






'■■/• : 



s/lAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, 
Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife. 



I find you passing gentle. 
'T was told me you were rough and coy and sullen, 
And now I find report a very liar; 
For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous, 
But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers. 
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, 
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, 
Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk; 
But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers, 
With gentle conference, soft and affable. 
Why does the world report that Kate doth limp? 
O slanderous world! Kate like the hazel-twig 
Is straight and slender, and as brown in hue 
As hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels. 
O, let me see thee walk; thou dost not halt. 












v., 



And therefore, setting all this chat aside, 
Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented 
That you shall be my wife ; your dowry greed on ; 
And, will you, nill you, I will marry you. 
Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn ; 
For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty, 
Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well, 
Thou must be married to no man but me; 
For I am he am born to tame you, Kate ; 
And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate 
Conformable as other household Kates. 
Here comes your father: never make denial; 
I must and will have Katherina to my wife. 













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Day Dreams Sir Frederick Leighton 

" Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye" 






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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



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Jfrom Kobe's labour's %o$t 

SONNET 

Act IV, Scene III 

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 

'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, 
Persuade my heart to this false perjury? 

Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. 
A woman I forswore; but I will prove, 

Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee : 
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; 

Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me. 
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is : 

Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, 
Exhal'st this vapour-vow; in thee it is. 

If broken then, it is no fault of mine ; 
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise 
To lose an oath to win a paradise ? 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 






jfrom Hobe'g lla&our's! Host 

Act IV, Scene III 

So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not 

To those fresh morning drops upon the rose, 
As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote 

The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows : 
Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright 

Through the transparent bosom of the deep, 
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light; 

Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep : 
No drop but as a coach doth carry thee; 

So ridest thou triumphing in my woe. 
Do but behold the tears that swell in me, 

And they thy glory through my grief will show: 
But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep 
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep. 
O queen of queens! how far dost thou excel, 
No thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell. 









---- _ ■ :..■ , 



SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



"5 



.-■_ 



'■ 



bonnet 

CXLVIII 

O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head, 
Which have no correspondence with true sight! 
Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled, 
That censures falsely what they see aright ? 
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, 
What means the world to say it is not so? 
If it be not, then love doth well denote 
Love's eye is not so true as all men's no. 
How can it ? O, how can Love's eye be true, 
That is so vex'd with watching and with tears ? 
No marvel then, though I mistake my view; 
The sun itself sees not till heaven clears. 

O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, 
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find. 
















Easter Morning u - ^loci 

"When proud-pied April, dress' d in all his trim 



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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



bonnet 

XCVIII 
From you have I been absent in the spring, 
When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim 
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, 
That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. 
Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell 
Of different flowers in odour and in hue 
Could make me any summer's story tell, 
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they gr 
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, 
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose : 
They were but sweet, but figures of delight, 
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. 
Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, 
As with your shadow I with these did play. 










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Study Head E. de Blaas 

"/» /az'f/*, 7 (io no* love thee with mine eyes" 












SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



119 



bonnet 

CXLI 
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, 
For they in thee a thousand errors note, 
But 't is my heart that loves what they despise, 
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote; 
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted, 
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, 
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited 
To any sensual feast with thee alone: 
But my five wits nor my five senses can 
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, 
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, 
Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be ; 
Only my plague thus far I count my gain, 
That she that makes me sin awards me pain. 













■^V.:..^ ■■'■&■£■* 



~T 







Wooing F. Andreotti 
"Art thou god to shepherd tiirn' d?" 






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SHAKSPERE'S LOVE POEMS 



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Act IV, Scene III 

Art thou god to shepherd turn'd, 

That a maiden's heart hath burn'd ?— 

* * * * * 

Why, thy godhead laid apart, 

Warr'st thou with a woman's heart ? 

***** 

Whiles the eye of man did woo me, 

That could do no vengeance to me. — 

***** 

If the scorn of your bright eyne 

Have power to raise such love in mine, 

Alack, in me what strange effect 

Would they work in mild aspect! 

Whiles you chid me, I did love; 

How then might your prayers move ! 

He that brings this love to thee 

Little knows this love in me; 

And by him seal up thy mind: 

Whether that thy youth and kind 

Will the faithful offer take 

Of me and all that I can make ; 

Or else by him my love deny, 

And then I'll study how to die. 



~^*hr" 






dec 10 «** 



J COPY ~~" ~ n "* r OiV. 

DEC 10 



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